


Cast adrift, falling to the wind

by f i r e f l y (xcrashthebestx)



Series: Crossfire [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Slipstream experiment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 16:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10390839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcrashthebestx/pseuds/f%20i%20r%20e%20f%20l%20y
Summary: The time has finally come to test the experimental Slipstream aircraft once again, and test pilot Lena Oxton couldn't be happier.





	

“Watchpoint GAMMA-INDIA-BETA, Slipstream ZERO-ZERO-ONE-DELTA, EXPERIMENTAL, requesting permission to proceed with initial test, over.”

Conditions were as close to ideal as they’d ever get, according to the numbers set out by the engineers who had spearheaded this project, and Lena was eager to give it a try.  This wasn’t the first time she’d taken the Slipstream out, but in every other instance, something had prevented her from completing a single test -- be it a mechanical issue, a shift in the weather, or even unexpected air traffic in the area.  This time, though, she was bloody determined to see it through.

“Control, Slipstream zero-zero-one delta, you are clear to initiate test protocol.  Proceed at will, over.”

“Copy that, control; initializing protocol in five, over.”  Despite her professional tone, the pilot was ready to burst with excitement, and maybe just a touch of nerves.  Out of all the pilots in the RAF, and hell, any of the allied nations that Overwatch drew from, she had been the one selected to pilot the Slipstream prototype.   _ She _ was the first one to get to attempt to not only fly this amazingly beautiful piece of machinery...but the first pilot ever to attempt mid-flight teleportation.  If the Slipstream project was successful, it would revolutionize everything!

“Right,” she murmured to herself, counting down the seconds in her head.  “Here goes nothing.”

She flipped a switch, and felt a jolt, her mind taking a moment to catch up with her body...even while it felt like her stomach had been left miles behind.  But on closer inspection...altitude holding steady, artificial horizon in place...everything looked proper.

“Slipstream zero-zero-one-delta to command, initial test successful, over..”

After her initial report, though, she heard only static in response.

“Slipstream zero-zero-one-delta to command, come in, over.”

After several more moments, still nothing.

“Damn.  Jump must’ve buggered the coms,” she huffed, shaking her head.  She was nearing the coordinates of the second intended jump, and conditions were holding within the acceptable limits, though… One more report, then.

“Slipstream to control, approaching coordinates for secondary test, requesting permission to proceed, over.”

Silence.  They’d covered what to do if her coms went out in an emergency situation, but had only briefly touched on what to do in a mundane situation like this.  As the test pilot, she’d been told that without coms, the burden of decision would fall on her shoulders.  She’d spent countless time with this machine so far, and, well, given the undeniable success of the first test and continued ideal variables, what was to stop her from running the second?  She knew this machine inside and out, and had perfect faith that it would see her safely through once again.

“Slipstream to control, initiating protocol in five, over.”

As she threw the switch a second time, she thought she could just  _ barely  _ make out the sound of someone from control answering between the bursts of static.  “ ---stream, do no---- re---- not eng---- do----- py --- over.”

And then there was nothing but silence.

* * *

The world had gone dark around her.

That did nothing to deter the test pilot, however; she’d fought in the Omnic Crisis under far worse conditions.  A little darkness was hardly going to throw her.

Except every move she made felt like she was dragging herself through thick jelly, or fighting against a swift current as she endeavored to initiate the emergency protocols she had practiced so many times before.

“Slipstream to control, come in control, over.”

She knew she was speaking, but she couldn’t hear her own voice.

She couldn’t hear  _ anything _ .

She was flying, deaf and blind, through a myriad of unknowns.  Where was she?  What was her altitude?  Had the plane been damaged in the jump?  She didn’t know, and she had no way of finding out.

Until searing pain began to tear at her, causing every inch of her skin to feel as though it was on  _ fire _ .  And maybe it was.  After all, blind and deaf as she was, who was to say that the whole bloody aircraft wasn’t being engulfed in flames, her cockpit filling with smoke...or maybe something had gone wrong, and she was experiencing the effects of being violently subjected to sudden changes in air pressure -- had the cockpit become depressurized?  Which gruesome demise would she prefer?  Not like she had a choice, of course.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Lena finally felt her fingers brush the button that would sent out a distress signal, coordinates included, before the pain overwhelmed her, and she was properly consumed by the inky blackness once again.

* * *

 

The pain is the first thing she feels when she regains consciousness again.

It’s comforting, in a way, because if she can feel pain, at least she’s not dead, right?

The comfort only goes so far, though, because the more aware she becomes, the more that it  _ hurts _ .  

She’s been shot, burned, stabbed, crashed a hovercar, broken bones, and been bashed by omnics under the control of the God Program, but never,  _ never _ has she felt pain like this.  

Never has she felt an agony that went  _ bone deep _ , as though she was being ripped apart from the inside out.  Never has she felt such an urge to scream, only to find that she was incapable of sound.   _ Never _ has she endured a pain that made her  _ wish for death. _

Until now.

* * *

When the pain ebbs, she dreams.

_ They must be dreams -- what else could be so beautiful and so tragic all at once? _

She sees herself, over and over, on different paths, different lives, all different versions of  _ what might have been _ .

Or perhaps they’re not dreams after all.  Perhaps she’s dead, and this is her afterlife.  Her eternal punishment for whatever sins she’s committed in life.

She can’t think of anything she’s done that would be horrid enough to deserve  _ this _ , though.  This endless parade of ways her life might have played out, if only she’d done one thing different; if only she’d  _ lived _ .

The regret that tears at her heart is almost as bad as the pain that tears at her body.  Maybe it’s even worse.


End file.
